Muscle Cars and Mashed Potatoes

Last night went great. Both my husband and I admittedly nervously anticipated seeing his pal, like any reunion, but after the first practical joke the ice was broke.

We asked the front desk clerk, a super nice lady, to call him and tell him someone was messing with his car. He bound out of his room like Clark Kent changes into Superman, though he did not take time to tie his shoes.

We sat at Ole Times until they kicked us out, literally. Several times before we actually went and made a trip to the buffet the waitress staff checked our ticket to make sure we had ordered buffet because we had sat for so long just drinking our sodas and talking.

Or in my case, listening. I heard more about cars and muscle cars last night than any woman needs to know. Yes, I do live in the South, and yes, I like Nascar, but not because I know what is under the hoods. I will leave that to my very brilliant and and capable husband. Thankfully the coversation was laced last night with humor, and other times I just tried to follow. Humoring them with a “wow” and “really” and “uh-uh” as their body cues and voices prompted me.

Let me see if I can get this right for muscle car lovers out there. He has a blacked out, Mustang 500GT Shelby Cobra with many customizations. I heard alot of blahblahblahblahblah last night. but they were happy, and that was what was important. The hubs needs his buddy. He has had one other friend and his wife visit since we were married. His daughters when we could get them to come, that was only the first couple of years, and that is it. He says that the blood running through his veins is now Southern purged of I suppose.

The phone, roads, and planes go both ways. I am glad that this buddy made the effort to connect with him and see him, it means so much to both of us. I will put up with muscle car talk for that.

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About Hope

I am forty year old survivor and a five year old victim of sexual abuse. I live with severe depression and anxiety, and in 2013 was diagnosed with DID and PTSD. My journey is to reintegrate my alter and the adult me into a whole person, healthy person, and one that can empathize with others.

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